Guns & Guitars. First 'Live' Recording. Fun, upbeat and catchy song to play and sing to. Not sure what genre this is.
Lyrics:
I can make a dollar out of 13 cents
And my guit fiddle strings can really bend
I gotta mean 1 hitter and a bag of spice
I cannot smoke the reefer but I still get high
All I need I have in front of me
A fifth of bourbon and my car keys
A lighter in my pocket with my slip on shoes
A full tank of gas and nothing to lose
Lost my mind lost track of all the time
And somedays I feel that I am going blind
I forgot my name plus i lost my number
Fumbling mumbling bumbling stumbler
I can make a dollar out of 13 cents
And my guit fiddle strings can really f-ing bend
I gotta 2 dollar pistol that is cold as hell
2 dug graves and a case of shells
All I need I have on me
Gloves on my hand in my stain free jeans
Plastic wrapped around my combat boots
Half a tank of gas and Im drunk off booze
Lost my mind lost track of time
Somedays I feel like I am going blind
I forgot my name plus I lost my number
Stumbling bumbling mumbling blunder
So I can make a dollar out of 13 cents
Don't that sh*t really f- with your head
I gotta 2 dollar pistol now its hot as hell
2 to the border with the cops on my trail
All I need has up and left me
What was left of my sense and my sobriety
I have no problem with that paths that I choose
You have to remember I gots nothing to lose
No excuses for the things that I've done
I never grew up I just learned to run
Got lost down deep in the pale ale
Spent my wad of cash had saved for my bail
Scared to go out cops gunning for me
The last time we met cuffed my wrists to my feet
So when I go out I don't make no plans
And I just fly by the seat of my pants
Lost my mind lost track of all the time
I'm all sorts of f-ed and I know why
I forgot my name she f-ing lost my number
Stumbling mumbling bumbling blunber
Well I chew tobacco and it ain't no joke
And Trippy T here likes to smokey smoke
Take an acid trip heightened with a dip
Hits you so hard like yea really quick
2 helpless souls, without a single hope
Alcohol please with a side of dope
We like alcohol
We like to smoke and drink
We dont give a f- at all
No we dont give a f- what you think
Criss cross
Applesauce
Green salads
Fresh or tossed
Icecream and candybars
Backseats of police cars
Red meats and barbie dolls
Loud screams, 911 calls
Everything all in one
Blows your mind guitars and guns